The Artist's Secret
by SweetDulcinea
Summary: Bella needs to get away to focus on writing her next book. The Italian villa she rents holds many distractions, including an enthralling private video collection. When the owner returns, he finds quite the surprise from his mysterious house guest. E/B AH


**A/N: I originally posted this story on the Twilighted FFFA (Friday Free For All)...a while ago. I don't remember when. Anyhoodle, thanks to everyone who read it then. If you missed it the first time, well, here you go! It's fun, dirty E/B *gasp*. I tell you all the time I can still write them, so here's your proof =)**

**My thanks go to manyafandom for having me over on FFFA and Smut Monday, Chele681 for beta magic, BBSapphire24 for prereading, and keepingupwiththekids for thinking up this Artward so, so long ago!**

**All characters, products, or songs mentioned are property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. There may be no reproduction or reposting of this story with my express written consent. Now enjoy the perviness and let me know what you think!  
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**~ B ~**

I knew I shouldn't have been in the master bedroom, but it felt as though some invisible force was pulling me in farther. The need to see, to touch, to discover was overwhelming.

This Italian villa had been a last minute treasure of a find thanks to my amazing assistant, Angela. My publisher had become more demanding with the deadline on my next book, but I had been stuck for months, unable to get the story out the way I envisioned it. In the end, my agent and publicist had pulled some strings and convinced the publishing house to pay for this trip, reminding them how successful my series had been thus far and how important this novel would be to their business. It was true that I needed seclusion to focus, and I'd been unbelievably lucky to end up here.

When Angela had called the travel agent, he informed her that this villa, which was normally a private home, had just become available for a month at a ridiculously low rate. Apparently, there were some special circumstances with the owner, but it worked out in my favor. Upon arrival, I was shocked by the lovely landscape and the even more beautiful villa. It was moderately sized, including two bedrooms for me to choose from. There was another bedroom with an adjacent office, but those rooms were restricted from my use and locked tight. I hadn't thought much of that; all the space was nice, but I didn't really need it while here alone.

The change of scenery had done the intended trick, and after exploring the area for the first couple days, I got to work on my book and had been writing non-stop for three weeks. When mental exhaustion finally struck, I allowed myself some time to relax. I had surpassed my goal and had a much clearer picture of where the story was going. It was then that I began my curious perusal of the villa.

It wasn't too lavish, but it also wasn't some rundown old vineyard home that needed extensive work. It was homey and comfortable, filled with dark, simple furniture in earthy tones. Aside from some books, there were no knickknacks or décor pieces placed about unnecessarily. Instead, each room held an extensive variety of art. There were paintings, pottery, carvings in many medium, drawings, photography, and even a small metal sculpture in the living room. It was mesmerizing. If the owner wasn't an artist himself, he was clearly an enthusiast.

The exotic collection made me desperate to know more about the villa's owner. So desperate, in fact, that I ended up snooping around his home in an attempt to learn whatever I could about him, which was how I came across a single key taped to the underside of a shelf in the pantry. A key that just so happened to unlock the master suite. My curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself in the one place I had been instructed not to go.

Beginning with the armoire, I gently opened the doors and peered inside. My movements were cautious and quiet, as if I was sneaking around. It wasn't as though anyone else was in the house to hear me, yet my mind told me to stay as silent as possible. Informal clothing filled the shelves and drawers inside the deep wood cabinet. I assumed from the contents these were clothes he used for exercise. Unlike most men, there were no old ratty tee shirts or gym shorts. Each item was an expensive name brand in sportswear. Every pair of socks was pristine white, carefully rolled together with its mate. Stacks of boxer briefs filled a large drawer.

I had to admit I was a bit disappointed that I didn't find anything within those drawers other than clothes. I thought for sure some secret would be hidden within that armoire, though I did note that there were not any women's clothes in there. That confirmed my suspicion that he was unmarried.

My search continued in a similar manner through the rest of the bedroom. Guilt crept up my spine, into my neck, and throbbed in my temples, but I pushed it back each time. It seemed there weren't any significant clues about the owner in his room anyway. Bedside tables held books, a cell phone charger, pens, and a notepad, but nothing else. Sorely disappointed, I proceeded to the office that was connected to the bedroom.

More art adorned the walls and every flat surface. Two leather chairs sat on one side of the home office, boxing in a mahogany corner cabinet that was filled with books. A built-in bookshelf covered the entire wall behind the enormous desk on the east side of the room. The sheer number of books he possessed made me smile. It didn't matter to me what the subject or titles were. Being in the presence of so many of my friends made me comfortable and happy.

Drawn to the shelf, I brushed my fingers across the spines of a line of Italian titles. Inhaling deeply, I breathed in the smell of well-loved volumes. It was a delicious scent to me.

Upon exploring the rest of the room, I sat myself in the brown leather desk chair that matched the two in the corner. I spun it around slowly, smiling that it did not creak or object to the movement. This chair was obviously well cared for and expensive.

The only items on top of the deep, shiny surface of the desk were a cluster of various fertility god statues in wood, carved marble, and clay. Each had a unique shape and style, likely coming from different locations all over the world, but their ultimate identity was obvious. With disproportionately large penises, each was like a little male ego screaming, "I'm the biggest and the best!"

The desk drawers were as much of a disappointment as the rest of his rooms had been. I had nearly given up upon seeing that the bottom right drawer was empty, but I did a double take. Upon closer inspection, I realized the drawer had a false bottom. Without anything else inside, I'd noticed how shallow it looked.

_Where there is a false bottom, there are usually secrets._

My desire to figure this guy out nagged on, urging me to find the hidden latch and uncover the contents below. I yelped with glee when I located it, surprisingly myself with the first noise I had made since I'd begun snooping. For one brief moment, I reconsidered my choice to invade this man's privacy. With a finger on the release latch, my anxiety disappeared and I was back to the task at hand.

There, in the bottom of the drawer was a small black bag and a book of CDs. I pulled both out, setting them on the desk in front of me. Unzipping the bag, I found a compact camcorder inside. My assumption was that it had been hidden for safekeeping. Anxious to learn something more about this man than just the color of his underwear and how he folded his socks, I moved on to the book of CDs. Each was marked only with a date, revealing nothing. Curiosity piqued, I took the book out to the living room area and headed for the stereo system.

Just as I was about to place the first disc into the player, I noticed something on the reflective surface. Instead of the _CD-R_ mark that recordable music discs held, this one said _DVD-R_. These were not discs of music, they were videos. It suddenly made sense why they were tucked away with the camcorder.

For the second time, I paused to reconsider what I was doing. It was one thing to listen to someone else's music, but watching a video felt like an invasion of privacy that may have been too much. I placed the disc back into the book and left it on top of the stereo.

Feeling the need for a break from my would-be detective work, I decided to take a bath. The warm water lulled me into a peaceful state, where I daydreamed of beautiful Italian landscapes and rich cultural history. By the time the water went lukewarm and became uncomfortable, my mind was back on those videos. I wanted to look at them so much, but I was also a bit scared of what I might find. What if the owner of this place was a murderer and those were his sick, twisted recordings of brutal torture and death? Okay, that idea was a bit far fetched, but what could someone possibly have on video that they would want to keep hidden away in a secret compartment of their desk?

Giving up the fight, I towel dried my hair quickly and threw on my robe in place of clothes. Back in the living room, I pulled out the first disc again and placed it in the DVD player. I sat down on the sofa with the remote control in my hand, powering up the television and surround sound. The simple menu on the screen verified that these were indeed home videos. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the _play_ button.

The first image was an empty bed, but it was soon occupied by a beautiful, model-like woman and an equally gorgeous man. They were kissing, rolling around on the bed, and peeling away one another's clothes.

_Oh my fucking god, I'm watching someone's homemade sex tapes!_

My first instinct was to turn it off and put everything back where I found it, but I hesitated. Like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car, I was frozen, absolutely mesmerized by the sight before me. I couldn't stop, could not tear my eyes away from the scene that was unfolding between the two lovers in the video. Resigning myself to my own perverse enjoyment, I set the remote aside and continued watching with rapt attention.

With all their clothing removed, I was awestruck by the two players in this little feature. I had watched porn before, but I had never felt an attraction to the women in those movies. It took me a few minutes of watching their fondling and kissing to realize what I found compelling about her. I was not attracted to the woman in the video – it was her reactions to the man's ministrations that got to me. Where pornography was impersonal and hollow, lacking connection between the actors, this home video revealed the obvious signs of attraction and sexual chemistry. I had no way of knowing if the two were actually in love or not, but they certainly felt something that made their experience personal and unbelievably sexy.

There was too much to focus on, making my mind scatter and jump from one thought to another with each passing second. This man was…words failed me. As a writer, that was a pretty strong reaction to have to someone. The way his body moved, his sounds, the careful attention he paid to the woman's wants and needs – it was a sight to behold. Never in my life had I been with a man who paid such careful attention to me during sex. It was as if he could not be satisfied until he had pleasured her into orgasmic submission.

Beyond that, he was incredibly attractive. I could not see all of the details of their play or his face and body, but what I could see was enough. His form was lean and carefully muscled. He obviously took great care of himself, but did not overdo any sort of training that would result in bulk or sharp lines. The reddish-brown mess of hair on his head was in wild disarray, even before the sexual activity began. As they went on and the woman's fingers wove through the long strands, the more enticing it became. Each of his features was strong and defined, especially his jaw line. I could not see the color of his eyes in the half-light of the bedroom, but the intensity in them was unmistakable. This was a rare creature.

By the time the video was over, I realized I was sweating…and incredibly turned on by what I had just seen. Surprising myself, I jumped up from the sofa and switched out the disc for the next one in the little book. As I walked back to take my seat once more, I could feel the moisture pooling between my legs, seeping out onto my inner thighs from my movement. I untied my robe, flapping the sides in my hands a few times to fan my overheated body. As the second video began, I left my robe open.

Things began in a similar manner as the first one. The man in the video was the same, but the woman was different. That was enough to confirm that he was the owner of this villa.

After seeing the stunning woman in the first video, I was surprised by how different this second sexual partner was. She was not as tall, nor as slender. In fact, her body was quite voluptuous. She had real curves, thick thighs, and a slightly rounded belly, but his passion for her was just as strong. The attention he gave every single inch of her body was mystifying. He was in no hurry to fuck her and be done. This man was worshipping the woman in his bed.

Once again, I found the woman's reactions to him to be a huge turn-on for me. The way he made her feel was obviously incredible, and I found myself craving that kind of adoration and ecstasy. As his hands and mouth worked over her full breasts, I realized I was fondling my own. I readjusted on the large sofa, sinking into a more comfortable position. He teased his lover with licks and bites on her nipples; I tugged at mine, rolling the pebbled nubs between my thumb and forefinger. As he took a handful and squeezed, I did the same. Proportionally, his large hand covered as much of her ample breast as my small hands did to my humble ones. Together, we rubbed and loved, making nerve endings stand on end. I found myself gasping in time with the other dark-haired woman on the television screen.

As he kissed his way down toward her sex, I raked my nails up and down my torso, leaving a fiery wake with each long, red streak. The sensation was not the same as a man's mouth against my increasingly hot skin, but it still awakened something in me. Finally, his mouth met the glistening flesh between her legs, eliciting the loudest moan from her yet. Her hips lifted involuntarily, and my own body responded in kind. I wanted to see more and found myself incredibly grateful that the placement of the camera and the position of their bodies allowed for a better angle than the last video I'd viewed. My eyes remained glued on the way he fucked her with his mouth. Holding off on touching myself, I rubbed and massaged my inner thighs. My robe had been brushed aside, now lying fully open against the couch cushions. Tucking my foot under the coffee table, I pulled it close enough to the sofa that I could rest my feet on the edge, my legs spread open wide.

My fingers were inching closer to my aching center, but I needed to wait. The Adonis before my eyes was not finished with this woman, and I didn't want to stop before they did. Controlling myself as she screamed through her climax was the hardest part, especially as I heard him growl and moan into her pussy. Then, the sexiest thing of all happened. As he raised himself up from between her legs, the back of his forearm dragged across his mouth, wiping it clean of her arousal. The look in his eyes was feral and full of desire. In a matter of seconds, he had flipped her over and shoved inside her body from behind.

Too much, it was all too much. My right hand frantically slapped against my swollen lips, parting them and rubbing quickly with two fingers.

"Oh my god!" I moaned, sucking in quick breaths as my body reacted to the visual and physical stimuli.

He was pounding the woman so hard, but it was not violent, simply animalistic. She attempted to move herself onto all fours, but the force of his movements kept her from rising any higher than her elbows. Her ass remained high while he gripped her hips, but the rest of her body was out of control. She went back and forth between arching her back in a catlike pose and flinging her head back to slumping down against the bed helplessly, forehead in the pillows. I dipped my two soaked fingers inside myself, jumping slightly when he laid a sharp slap on her rounded backside.

Everything was so noisy, so frantic. Their obscenely loud cries on the booming stereo system wrapped around my increasing moans, playing together in an erotic chorus. I needed more. I needed _him_. I wanted to be the woman in that video and feel his body working against mine. Imagining myself in her place, I wondered how his balls would feel slapping against me as he fucked me mercilessly.

My hand was working me over with needful fury, fingers curving toward my sweet spot as my thumb flicked at my clit erratically. I used my free hand to stroke my body and tease my nipples. I was writhing on the sofa, just as that lucky bitch in the video was writhing for her man. It was obvious they were both quickly approaching completion, and I wanted to get there with them in this imagined threesome. His arm wrapped around her waist, obviously playing at her bundle of nerves to drive her over the edge. Applying more pressure to the same place on my own body, I felt my belly tighten immediately. In rapid-fire succession, she came screaming his name, I called out my orgasm next, and then he shoved hard, holding himself against her with his own deep growl.

It was not until we were all coming down that the name she called out registered in my mind.

_Edward._

His name was Edward.

I had a name to go with the face and body that would now surely occupy all my future fantasies.

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**~ E~**

I had lived in Italy less than a year before I was called back to the U.S. to settle my late grandfather's estate in Chicago, but I felt the peace and comfort of _home_ the moment I set foot in my villa again. A month had been a long time to be away. When I had expressed my concerns about leaving for so long to my realtor-turned-friend, Gianna, she'd suggested leasing the place out as a vacation rental for the time I'd be gone. I had been apprehensive about the idea, but she insisted that her agency handled such arrangements frequently. She'd sealed the deal by informing me that, even at a discounted rate, the rental price they would collect would be more than my entire month's salary. With my personal space – the bedroom and office – securely locked up, I had placed my trust in Gianna and her business experience.

It was obvious that a cleaning company had come in and returned everything to the way it had been before my departure. If I hadn't known any better, I never would have realized my home had been occupied at all while I was gone. Being back in my space made me anxious to readjust to my life and get back to work. I had uprooted my entire existence to come here in pursuit of a dream, and now I wanted to live it out. The rich culture, the beautiful landscape, and my work doing art restoration were all well worth selling everything I owned (with the exception of my art collection) and draining my life savings to be here.

My comfort was disrupted the moment I unlocked my bedroom door and viewed my private quarters. The vacation tenant and cleaning crew were both given strict orders to stay out of here. How would they have even gotten in? But I knew someone _had_ been in my room. The comforter on my bed was rumpled, the pillows in disarray. At the end of my bed, in a crumpled pile, were a pair of my boxers and one of my T-shirts.

Panic struck, and I immediately ran to my office, fearful that some of my prized artifacts may have been damaged or stolen. I noticed that one of the small figures on my desk was out of place, but otherwise, things looked normal. Still, my heart raced and my breath quickened. I fell into my desk chair and pulled open the drawer with the false bottom. Instead of being hidden away underneath, my camcorder and book of video discs sat in the drawer.

My mind was reeling. What the fuck would I do if someone had taken any of the videos? I could just imagine my sex tapes ending up on the Internet somewhere or being sold for mass market production.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

I knew my little fetish had its risks, but I always thought I had been safe. My sexual partners consented to being filmed, and before they left, I gave them the option of destroying the evidence. I was never with any woman more than once, far too consumed with my life to take on any emotional attachments or obligation, and no one had ever come back with a change of heart about our moment of kink.

My anxiety didn't subside, but I managed to still my shaking hands enough to unzip the case and examine the contents. There were no empty slots. I flipped through, looking at the dates, each still in chronological order. Then, I went back to the beginning and counted. There should have been 16.

_14…15…16…_17_?_

Upon closer examination, I realized that the final disc was dated in handwriting that was not my own. And that date was most definitely while I was away…while the vacation tenant had been staying here.

My first reaction was to yank that disc out and see what the fuck was on it. I felt a moment of hesitation, unsure what the hell I would see and if I even wanted to know what would be on there, and understanding that whoever made it had obviously discovered my secret. Additionally, what was I to make of my disheveled bed and articles of clothing left on my bedroom floor? Were they clues? A warning? I had no idea.

I knew that the only answers I would find would be on the video.

Nervously, yet filled with morbid curiosity, I retrieved my laptop and brought it back to my desk. It took a minute to start, and once it was ready, I placed the DVD in the disc drive and pressed play, uncertainty causing my stomach to roll and churn.

The first thing I saw was the camera trained on my empty bed, still pristine and smooth. Slowly, a female figure appeared in the frame, her back to the camera, and her slim body eclipsed by the oversized clothes she wore. My clothes. Without turning, she discarded my shirt, revealing a lacy white bra. She bent forward slightly to slide my boxers down, which had been rolled on her hips to keep them up. Underneath, she wore matching lace. They were that boyshort fashion I had known many women to enjoy, but they cut halfway across her rounded backside, revealing her enticing curves.

My breath hitched when I realized I was attracted to this woman. Her behavior thus far suggested salacious things to come, but there was no way to be certain without continuing to watch. I had yet to see her face, but her body was amazing. She had well-proportioned curves in all the right places, and she obviously took care of herself. She was not perfect, but gorgeous nonetheless. And, oh, the beautiful waves of deep brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. _Lovely._

I inwardly willed her to turn, to reveal her true self to me, but that moment did not come. Instead, she climbed onto the bed, her firm ass jutting out toward the camera as she crawled toward the pillows. The lace she wore stretched across her smooth, pale skin, and I found myself wishing I could reach out and touch her.

I had grown hard in my seat, completely and utterly turned on by her display.

I should have felt angry and resentful about her invasion of my privacy, but I was incapable of such emotions.

I wanted to see more. I wanted to see her face.

Unfortunately, when she turned over on the bed, laying propped on my pillows, I could only see her from the neck down. Fuck, she had done that on purpose. I had no way of confirming it, but I just _knew_.

That was when she began doing the most delightfully sexy thing ever. Her hands rose to her breasts without hesitation. She cupped and rubbed herself, pinching at her nipples and rolling the soft mounds of flesh in her delicate hands. She tugged the translucent lace down, revealing her naked skin, and my cock throbbed so painfully that I had to place a hand on myself to relieve some of the pressure.

I could hear her soft breaths as her hands wandered over her body, running up and down her ribs and stomach, drawing circles around her navel and hipbones. Occasionally, one hand would sweep back up to tease her breasts, but then she would be back to rubbing herself all over.

I was so enraptured by the scene, wanting so desperately for her to travel lower, to expose her sex to the video camera and touch herself. Unable to take my own arousal any longer, I unbuckled my belt and hastily opened my pants. With my stiff manhood in my hand, I slowly stroked myself as I watched the show.

"_Ohhh…" _she cried softly as her hands slipped to her thighs, moving inward and upward as her legs parted. I could see through the white fabric that she was completely bare, and I squeezed myself harder as I imagined how smooth and silky she must have been.

God damn, I wanted to see her face, to know her, to understand the alluring woman who was teasing me so.

Finally, she fulfilled all my hopes and wishes by carefully pushing aside the fabric of her panties and displaying herself for me. She touched herself purposefully, sliding her finger up and down her pussy, allowing me to see how it glistened with moisture.

I stroked myself faster.

With one hand, she parted her lips and teased herself; with the other, she rubbed quick circles on her clit.

Then, the least expected thing happened. One of her hands left her as she reached behind her, under the pillow. She pulled something out. Oh, sweet heaven, it was a vibrator. It buzzed lightly with the flick of a button, and she wasted no time placing the object between her legs and plunging it into her body.

My focus was lost after that. While she fucked herself thoroughly with that toy, I yanked at my cock with needful fury, wishing I could bury myself inside her body instead of that stupid inanimate object. I hadn't even seen her face, I didn't know her name, and yet I had never wanted to fuck any woman more in my life. How bold she had been, not only to come into my private space and view the evidence of my deepest secrets, but to create the video, obviously intended for my eyes…I knew she must be an exceptional and glorious woman. She was the kind I would keep. The one I would have to have over and over again.

She was moaning like crazy, her hips lifting toward the toy as my own thrust up to meet my strokes. There was so much frenzy, on the screen and there in my office, but it was unmistakable when she spoke her first and only word.

"_Edward!"_

She cried my name in a long, strangled moan of pleasure, her back arching off my bed and her beautiful body glowing with sweat. It was too much, and it did me in. I came all over myself, unprepared as the hot, sticky substance made a mess of my hand, desk, and pants.

_She fucking called my name out when she came._

I watched, panting heavily and coming down from the post-orgasm high, as she did the same. The vibrator was removed from her body and tucked back under my pillow. Her chest rose and fell as she reclaimed her breath and a steady heart rate. And still, I could not see her face. I felt devastated by that.

She eventually rose and turned off the camera, still obscuring her face from my view, and then it was over. My mind was a clusterfuck, but I managed to peel myself out of my chair and remove my soiled clothing. I was about to head into my bathroom for a much needed shower when something dawned on me.

I quickly moved back into my bedroom and picked up the clothing that laid on the floor. Bringing it to my nose, I could smell the sweet, floral essence of a woman, and I sucked it in deeply. It was _her_ scent – the nameless, faceless vixen who completely possessed me. Shoving my face into my rumpled comforter, I could smell her there as well, the feminine scent mixed with…sex. _Oh god…._

With a trembling hand, I grabbed at the stack of pillows on my bed and tossed them all aside. It was there. The little pink vibrator she had used to fuck herself on my bed, as she called out _my_ name, had been left behind as another reminder of her presence.

There was only one thing on my mind at that point.

Who the hell was this woman, and how could I find her?

I had to. I _needed _to.

Grabbing my phone, I quickly dialed and held it to my ear.

"_Edward! I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. How was your trip, darling?"_

"It was fine, thank you. Umm, Gianna, there's something I need to ask you. Do you…I know it's not information you usually share, but…fuck. Could you please tell me how to get in contact with the woman who stayed in my home?"

I waited anxiously, grinding my teeth as I anticipated her rebuke. Instead, she said the most glorious fucking words I had ever heard in all the years of my existence.

"_It's funny you should ask. It was the oddest thing, but when she returned the keys to me and checked out, she left a phone number at a local hotel. She mentioned extending her trip and asked me to keep the number for you if you should call me. Edward, did something happen? I inspected the villa myself, and I saw no damages."_

A wide, devilish grin spread across my face, and my heart leapt with joy. It all felt like a dream. A dream come true.

"No, everything is fine, Gianna. Thank you for all your help. It's just that she…left something of hers here, and I'd like to return it to her. May I have that number?"


End file.
